


Alive

by Wingstar102



Category: NCIS
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Creepy, Ficlet, M/M, Medical Procedures, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Content, Spook-Me Fic-A-Thon Entry, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wingstar102/pseuds/Wingstar102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entry for the 2010 Spook-Me Fic-A-Thon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

Tim arched and struggled, trying to jerk loose the chains that held his fast to the frighteningly cold table. Felt like a caged animal, shackles enclosing his wrists and ankles. He gave in to one choked and hitching sob before trying again, his sweat-drenched and naked flesh arching again in what he was sure Jethro would think of as the perfect shape of a keel.

Thrashing in defiance, he screamed for Jethro, wondering if his lover was coming for him. Wondering if _maybe_ the psycho who took him from his lover's bed had miscalculated and used too little force when hitting Jethro over the head with the bedside lamp.

Hoping Jethro wasn't…

A sigh escaped Tim, deciding that he'd rather drown himself in better memories than to wait in fear for his kidnapper to come back and use him as a trial run for becoming cybernetic. Not that the idea wasn't something he'd fantasized about as a teenager, who didn't dream up something that wild, but he'd rather had done this willingly and not just to be turned into some inhuman and mindless killing _thing_. If this worked at all and didn't kill him in the process.

Still, the fear didn't become bearable until he called up some of his most intimate memories.

_Rough, scarred, calloused hands sliding teasingly along his inner thighs…_

_Hands buried into silver-gray hair as Jethro hungrily nipped his way down from his collar-bone…_

_The smell of sawdust and gun oil and bourbon wafting off his lover's skin, the weeping cock in his mouth feeling almost as sinful as it would in other ways…_

_A satiated rumble as Jethro said Tim's name, chests and hips pressed together, legs tangled, Jethro nuzzling his jaw in an overt display of love and affection…_

Didn't hear his captor drop a tray on the table holding Tim or the very distant sound of a door being kicked open. Didn't hear Jethro and Tony and Ziva screaming his name or their footsteps beat a quick tattoo on the floor in the hallway.

Didn't feel the first slice of the scalpel penetrating his flesh…

* * *

End.


End file.
